Skeptical luck
Talents are misshaped,
irrelevant accusations fill the air,
revised are the results.
Their flimsical attitudes,
encourage the insatiable soul,
which creep into the creaks to detour.
In the name of perfection,
doom calls upon the crowd,
those of who tremble
fear of the blesseth heart.
Defaming the honors of the deserving souls,
rupturing the harmony of the seeking ethos,
how do we camouflage between the two,
while we know how to differentiate them?
The begging lives are incomparable to the sacrificing ones.
The devouring spirits yearn to live while
the taunting ones learn to cause misfortune.
Standing against the wind did no good,
but some desires prevail over the harsh waves.
Ruptures of the mind negotiate with the calling
of the alignment of the universe.
A time when talents are no more whimsical,
when the crowd knows whom to crown.
A time of the future, a gesture
of the craving soul, evolve to places.
In those hours let luck be a mere word,
called upon phrases to heed the reed,
while the escalating lives emerge
without luck but, with cloaks of talent.
Weak minds rely on skeptical luck,
strong minds rely on self and nothing else.
Definition is biased, relevant is the survivor,
who redeems the pain and heads to challenge.
Depending on self, assures strength,
assures the preoccupied soul to learn,
to preach the wordings like never before,
to perceive, to endure, to live.
Skeptical luck is mere chances,
among the million instances.
What would you choose to recognize?
The End!
{Cover- Source}
